Denial
by WriteChristineR
Summary: Post Partings. Lorelai is back at her house, denying that anything happened between her and Luke.


Author's Note: This is NOT what I want to happen, and not nessecarrily what I think will happen. This idea simply spawned with me sitting at my computer, wanting to write something, but not knowing what. At first I didn't want to write about anything bad, or real, between Lorelai and Luke. I just wanted everything to be happy, but at the same time, I didn't want to follow what everyone else seems to be writing now about alternate season endings and Luke and Lorelai's wedding. So this sort of ended up showing denial and realism, all at once.

Denial

April Nardini? Never heard of her. Anna Nardini? Who's she? I wish that annoying little person in my head would quit bugging me so that I can focus on my wedding in peace. June third, it's coming up, a week from tomorrow, but that's okay. Everything's planned. I have the date, the place, the dress, the caterer, of course, Sookie. I even picked out the perfect flowers and got dozens of them ordered.

You would think that I would have trouble grasping the fact that after so many years, I was finally getting married to Luke, but the thing is, it seems completely natural. I have known it would happen, and now it's going to. It's the best thought I can remember having.

This is all going to be great. It's all going to work out. I can see it now. I'm walking down the aisle, wearing the perfect dress, carrying the perfect flowers, being followed by Rory and Sookie, the two perfect bridesmaids. The perfect audience is watching, it's fairly small, made up mostly of the residents of Star's Hollow. Waiting for me by the altar is the perfect groom, Luke Danes, looking perfect in his tuxedo and, of course, the blue baseball cap I bought for him years ago. To most, it would look out of place, but not to me. It looks perfect.

The preacher goes through the vows and the whole wedding spiel, but all I can clearly envision is the last part. "I now pronounce you husband and wife." It's perfect. It's magical. It's amazing. It's the wedding I have envisioned since my very early childhood.

I'm faintly aware of a high-pitched ringing sound in the background, but I ignore it. It isn't important. I'm getting married, and this sound is getting in the way. Nothing is going to get in the way of the fact that I, Lorelai Gilmore, am getting married to Luke Danes. I am.

Deep in my fantasies, I am completely unaware of how much time has passed. I know, however, that the sun has gone down only twice since I've been here in my living room, so June third, the only date of any importance, has not come yet.

The ringing sound seems to be in the distance, occurring every so often. Another sound, lower-pitched than the ringing, but still high pitched, comes from the vague direction of the front of my house. I tune it out completely, not wanting anything invading my predicted wedding reception, as perfect as the wedding itself.

A muffled banging sound comes forth, which I write off to Luke hammering something, always doing whatever he can to make our house as perfect as possible. Then the sound of a key turning in a lock, Luke letting himself in, I suspect.

The body that is standing in front of me moments later though, is not a part of what is going on. I have no idea how she got here, she is supposed to be at school. I close my eyes, blocking out the person who isn't part of what is going on rather than asking what she's doing here.

"Mom, what are you doing?" she asks. I'm fighting hard to block her out and keep things as they should be, as they are. Her voice, though, seems to have magical powers, luring me from the depths of my own mind and into the real world. I'm still fighting, greatly preferring my fantasy world to the real world. I squeeze my eyes shut harder than they already are, but against my will, feel tears welling up inside of them.

"Mom?" I can hear the concern in her voice, although I wish I couldn't. "Why haven't you answered the phone? I called, Sookie called, Patty called, Babette called. You didn't answer the door either, Babette came over this morning to check on you. "What's going on?"

I can feel reality crashing down all around me. I'm not getting married. _Crash._ I haven't come out of the house in almost three days. _Crash. _I slept with Christopher. _CRASH!_ The tears seem to be bypassing my eyes, still squeezed shut stubbornly, and rolling down my cheeks.

I'm aware, as if in a dream, of my daughter sitting down next to me and putting her arm around me. I pull my legs up onto the couch and lie sideways with my head in her lap, my body sort of curled up. I feel like I'm the daughter and she's the mother, but it all feels natural.

Before I can let the tears flow freely though, because I know I truly am the mother here, I have to ask her something. Between sobs, trying to hold back for just one more minute, I ask, "New jeans?"

"No," Rory whispers. Not bothering to consider the possibility that she's lying, I let loose, soon soaking the fabric that covers her upper legs. I'm not getting married. I can't keep the thought from my mind that I'll never have it, the whole package, never.


End file.
